


Ep 4: Harmless

by I_am_a_Ruin



Series: DR High School AU (ig personalities) [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, DICE being a family, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Guilt, Ouma is calmer than usual, Possibly OOC, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vent Piece, amami is the older brother we all need, but he's not okay rn so, no tsumugi, normal high school not dr verse, not pre game either, older brother Amami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin
Summary: Ouma thought he'd just be continuing his petty rivalry with Momota when he woke up that morning, not ruining someone's life. Things go awry all too easily.
Series: DR High School AU (ig personalities) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685053
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Ep 4: Harmless

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE READ FIRST  
> I didn't want to tag them up top just so I could explain a bit.  
> Emetophobia- not sexual or ED behavior. Just a reaction to something disturbing  
> Blood and Injury- I try to keep it as non-graphic as possible while still demonstrating that it is a traumatizing experience. Let me know if I should explain this further. I don't want to trigger/hurt anyone with this  
> Anorexia- this was supposed to be a vent piece with Ouma being anorexic. It turned into something else really. Not sure how it ended up so long but. Anyways, once again I try really hard to keep it non-graphic. Very different from my other vent ED pieces. No talk of weight, weighing, etc. Honestly, except for near the end you can't really tell it's even a thing and I do my best to keep it relatively vague. There is some intentional avoidance of calorie counting and negative thought patterns around eating.  
> Please tell me if I missed tagging anything else! Take care of yourself folks <3
> 
> ****  
> Explanation of the possibly OOC tag: I really tried to keep Ouma in character, I don't want to warp him but he's so complex and difficult to write and I'm still learning. Let me know if you wanna give me some tips for writing him. It's definitely particularly difficult with this situation where he is dealing with something traumatizing in a completely different manner than a killing game. His life isn't on the line, y'know?  
> Gokuhara is written to be more intelligent than in-game. I figured that if he was this far in high school (they're all roughly senior age in this, I don't specify) he'd be able to use proper grammar and everything. Could've maybe made him foreign-exchange to explain his speech patterns but I like the idea of him just being really naive and gullible instead. Let him be semi-intelligent, okay. 
> 
> I write DR blood as being pink. It's their brand. It always annoyed me in game when they'd describe it as red, for some reason. Just own it, man. So I will write it as being pink, I aggressively don't care it's annoying or cringey. It brings me peace of mind. If you don't like it write your own DR fic with red blood. Why am I so serious about this specifically? I don't know. I don't know. 
> 
> The relationship between Ouma and Amami in this is written towards platonic. Could be read romantically if you ship it but it's not necessarily a situation for a blooming romance lol.  
> Technically this was written with someone in mind that likely will never see this but honestly, if you do and know who you are, thank you so much! You're content of big brother Amami being protective and caring for Ouma literally brings me to tears and I'm so grateful to see it when you cos him. I can't express how much it helps me on bad days because Ouma is a comfort character for me. Bless you. Don't wanna mention you by name though cuz I'm hella shy and I didn't ask for permission. Know I appreciate your existence very much though <3 <3
> 
> ANYWAYS enough notes, proceed to the story if you're still lingering here :)

The scene in front of him is absolutely gruesome. Ouma can’t imagine most of his classmates would know how to handle this situation, except maybe Saihara. Perhaps Iruma, he doesn’t know much about her _(doesn’t want to)_ but she is into some freaky shit. Who knows what she can and can’t handle. She can be stunningly level-headed and brilliant even though he’d never say so to her face.   
Most of them would probably just stand there in absolute shock and horror, not believing their eyes.

Ouma wants to think he’s better than them, he could handle this, but isn’t he doing exactly that? Lost in thought, unable to think about the information his eyes are giving him? His hands are trembling beyond his control _(absolutely disgusting)_ and he has to force himself to blink and take a deep breath. If he can’t get a hold of this situation, it could be potentially disastrous. 

Damn, it looks straight out of _Of Mice and Men_ , though. _(Fuck the teacher that made him read that novel)  
_

How does he begin to calm down Gokuhara, though?

The other boy is bawling his few brains out in front of him, massive hands held out in front of his terrified face. “Ouma-san? Ouma-san, please!” Every syllable is shaky on the other’s tongue, breath raspy and harsh. 

Gokuhara is soaked almost entirely in something brightly pink and wet. Unmistakable. It was hard to come to terms with. Not the blood, not for Ouma. It’s placement on Gokuhara, of all people, however… It just doesn’t compute. Gokuhara wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

Did Gokuhara quite know his own strength though? 

There were a couple hugs Ouma hadn’t been able to dodge… he had always feared one day the pressure would just cause his whole body to actually bust open like a squashed grape. How easy would it be for Gokuhara to take it too far? 

“Gokuhara… what-” Ouma has to swallow hard and steady himself on the back of his chair. “Tell me what happened.”

That was likely a useless question. Gokuhara is beside himself, complete hysterics at this point. Ouma feels a little like an ornate china teacup on the edge of a cabinet a bull is headed straight for. He has never been afraid of Gokuhara quite like this. Sure, it’s anxiety-inducing when the other suspects Ouma maybe doesn’t like bugs as much as he says but… Gokuhara would never actually hurt him.

Ouma had always been so sure of that.

_(Didn’t he know better than to trust anyone?)_

“I… I don’t know! I was just leaving class and something hit my head really hard and I couldn’t see! Everything was so cold and I was afraid. I think I heard someone scream. I finally cleared my eyes and… and- Ouma-san I…” Gokuhara’s breathing was much too fast, too shallow making his sentences more stilted and hard to understand than usual. 

Maybe it was that or the adrenaline racing through his body that kept him from realizing it at first. But then he finally processes that word: cold. Ouma can’t help his sudden burst of laughter, relief calming his shuddering. 

Gokuhara looks more startled than ever, deeply hurt and crying all the harder. 

Ouma doesn’t mean for his laughter to sound cruel, his words to be mocking, but they are anyway. “It’s just paint.”

He barely has breathed that sentence before they’re no longer alone. Likely that his laughter and Gokuhara’s loud, ugly sobs drew someone’s attention. 

“Gokuhara-san! What happened? Who did this to you?” Saihara’s voice is sharp, interrupting the moment. 

Ouma hates him for recognizing the paint immediately for what it is. Maybe he just overheard what Ouma said.

“Not me, Saihara-san,” Gokuhara shakes his head wildly, tears still flooding down his face. “It’s Iruma-san.”

Ouma chokes on his own bubble of laughter, blood running cold. What?

“I couldn’t see! I didn’t mean to! You have to come,” Gokuhara takes firm hold of both Ouma and Saihara’s arms. 

Ouma can barely keep up and he feels as though his shoulder is about to be ripped out of its socket but they don’t stop and he doesn’t protest. He’s even less ready to see this than he was Gokuhara soaked in what he had thought was blood. 

Iruma was laying in a heap at the bottom of a flight of stairs cursing up a storm quite loudly. He had heard her before he even rounded the corner of the long hallway to the school’s staircase. It was immediately apparent she had a run-in with Gokuhara, her left side speckled with the same blood-like paint. It was a bit more obvious on her that it was paint, sections of it drying faster than the much-more-drenched Gokuhara. It wasn’t until they got closer that he noticed how sickly grey her skin was under the paint-matted hair and too much foundation. He didn’t want to bring his eyes any lower than her face but Saihara’s quiet inhale whistling through his teeth brought Ouma’s eyes to what was causing her to scream so much. Her right arm was twisted under her body in a manner it definitely shouldn’t be able to do. She must have fallen on it. Her right leg too… possibly dislocated at the hip. It hadn't always looked so swollen, had it?

He wanted to puke at the sight. 

It wasn’t until he received the darkest look from Saihara that he realized his erratic breathing had turned into fits of laughter. 

Iruma’s shrieking did not falter at all when her eyes glanced over them. Ouma wasn’t even sure if she could see them through the haze of pain over her eyes. 

“Does anyone have a phone?” Gokuhara said, snapping the pair out of their shock. _(Wow, he actually said something smart for once.)_

Saihara pulled one from his back pocket, stepping back from the scene to speak into the phone. Likely trying to hear the operator over Iruma’s high-pitched cries.

Ouma noticed a bucket at the top of the stairs and his knees very nearly gave out under him. He staggered into Gokuhara who braced him with a look of bewilderment. “You… You said something hit you?”

Gokuhara nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

Ouma was almost shocked Gokuhara hadn’t immediately called him out. Gokuhara himself had been a part of this, after all. It hadn’t been any difficulty to ask the taller boy to set the bucket of paint on the inside of the slightly ajar door, braced by the doorframe. Gokuhara didn’t even question why Ouma was doing such a thing; he had been all too willing to help set this plan up. Why hadn’t Ouma realized he never saw Gokuhara leave the classroom?

It hadn’t been meant for him so Ouma hadn’t connected the dots, too startled by the initial sight of Gokuhara head-to-toe in “blood.”

This was all Ouma’s fault. 

Iruma’s arm was mangled and he could maybe see the bone of her dislocated leg and **he did this**

_(It was just supposed to be a harmless prank. Payback for Momota hitting him the other day. They had a back and forth of petty, public humiliation. No one was ever really, truly injured or hurt, just angry and ready for payback. They never stepped it up. How had this happened; wasn’t supposed to happen like this Ouma didn’t mean to hurt anyone. He couldn't ruin someone like this. How was Gokuhara even shouldering something he must think was his fault? Oh God Oh God)_

Ouma really was going to be sick, managed to mumble something past his frantic, grating laughter and turned on his heel to bolt. He just barely made it to the bathroom before he lost it. He doubled over the tile, bracing himself on a sink edge as his puke hit the drain. 

He was a monster.

  
****

  
He didn’t eat or drink anything until he heard how Iruma was doing. It took roughly forty eight hours for anyone to give him that info. Normally he was one of the most in the know people, having his own creative ways to know everything he needed to about his classmates’ dirty drama. With Iruma, no one seemed to think to tell him and he, for once, didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear that the up and coming talented inventor that had helped him with so many projects wouldn’t be able to use her arm again. Didn’t want to see the boiling hatred on everyone’s face at what he’d done. 

They must have figured out it was him, right?

Maybe not. Harukawa or Momota would have likely pummeled him into the ground if they found out. For someone that supposedly didn’t like to get close to people, Harukawa was excessively protective of a lot of their classmates.

He didn’t deserve to stop seeing her twisted, agonized body in his feverish, delusional-from-hunger nightmares. 

It still wouldn’t be enough suffering for what he’d done. 

Ouma was ignoring his phone too, which was probably a mistake given that his gang never handled radio silence well. He really couldn’t do much but linger in his room and deeply hate himself. True this wasn’t exactly unusual for him but… He’d never loathed his own existence quite like this before. 

He felt gutted, like seeing that upturned bucket at the top of the stairs and mangled Iruma at the bottom had hollowed him out and left him a shell of a person. He wanted to cry but he just… couldn’t. What right did he have the relief of tears. Besides… he really hated crying. What if someone walked in on him doing that pathetic, gross bullshit?

Not like they’d believe it. They’d think it was his usual crocodile tears and he was pulling for some sympathy. No one could tell the difference between his real tears and the fake ones. A select few thought they could but if Ouma couldn’t tell which was which how could anyone else?

It was Amami who finally got him to open his door. The boy didn’t look well. His pale green eyes were darkened by the purple shadowy bags beneath them. Amami looked… exhausted, hair messier in a different way than usual. Normally it was clearly intentional, styled. This was just. A disaster. 

Amami wasn’t wearing makeup, either, he realized. He was fairly certain he’d never seen Amami without his eyeliner before. 

Ouma pulled his eyes away from Amami’s face when the other didn’t immediately enter the room. Amami was holding out a plate of steaming food. Noodles and a cream sauce that smelled over-the-top sweet. It made his stomach ache to look at, inhaling just a little too deeply in longing. Ouma dug his nails into his palms to bring himself back to reality. Amami was clearly catering to Ouma’s weakness right now. That couldn’t be good. This was food straight from Hanamura’s kitchen. Ouma’s favorite dish. 

He wanted to chuck it into the dorm hallway. 

Ouma took the offered food and stepped aside to let Amami in. 

“I haven’t seen you in the cafeteria for a couple days, thought you could use some food.”

The appropriate response was to thank him. Amami was being thoughtful. Ouma couldn’t summon the energy to do anything but stare blankly, intestines knotting tightly inside him in anticipation. 

Amami was sure to get to the point soon. Surely he knew Ouma didn’t know anything yet. 

“Saihara told me you were there when- ah, Gokuhara brought you there, right?” Amami said slowly, carefully considering his words when Ouma said nothing. 

Ouma forced himself to nod. 

Amami managed another moment of eye contact before dropping it to the floor, tugging anxiously on one of his ear piercings. 

Ouma set the food on his nightstand, trying to distance himself from the smell. It was no longer pleasant, every moment serving to increase his nausea. Wasn’t sure if the sudden lightheadedness he was feeling was the low blood sugar or the anxiety. 

Did it matter?

Amami said something, maybe, but he didn’t hear it. 

“What?” Ouma asked, looking back up from the spot on the bed he’d zoned out on. He saw flashes of disgustedly violent pink paint and bone every time he blinked, heard shrill screams and everything was too much.

Was he having a panic attack? Why couldn’t he feel anything? Panic attacks were supposed to make you feel like you were dying, right? Like, floor you heart attack style. Why did he feel like nothing was real?

_(This couldn’t be real, Amami wasn’t telling him Iruma would likely not regain use of her hand. Wasn’t acting like it was some blessing she hadn’t snapped her neck when she fell, that her leg was healing fine no infection despite the puncture. An inventor needed her hands. This was no blessing. Surely Amami didn’t know- It was just a nightmare Ouma would float out of his body and wake up gasping and it would be over)_

Ouma was probably going to black out if the spots in his vision and too hot skin and burning cold inside his head was any indication. D.I.C.E. would be contacted and he’d never hear the end of it. Would they throw him back into inpatient? Surely not for such a short relapse.

Everything was fine. 

It hurt. 

How did this look to Amami? What was he thinking? Didn’t matter. God it was so loud, and it hurt to breathe not enough air-

“Ouma, hey!” Amami said, cutting through the noise soup in Ouma’s ears. 

Ouma could only blink at him slowly, brain not activating at the sounds or processing them.

There was a warm pressure on his elbow and he realized his knees were buckling pitifully. 

“I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Amami murmured, stabilizing him long enough to bring him to the bedside so he could collapse with some mild dignity. 

Could it be both blood sugar and panic?

He should probably eat right?

Ouma didn’t have to ask, Amami pulling a small travel bottle of fizzy soda from his carry-on. 

“Here, take a few sips of this and try to get a couple deep breaths, yeah?”

Ouma took the bottle, purposefully placing his hand over the nutritional information. It definitely was a high number. He didn’t want to know.

_(He wanted to know but he wasn’t supposed to care anymore. Shouldn’t be cursing himself for not trying to get a diet one instead. Shouldn’t be somehow connecting the sugar and calories he was about to consume to Iruma’s situation like this was the cause of it. And not his own stupidity.)_

The tart orange flavor made him want to gag and spit it back out;Amami winced in sympathy.

“Sorry, didn't have grape on me.”

Ouma nodded, making himself take the deep breaths Amami had requested. Everything was sharper than before, less fuzzy like he was swimming through carbonated water. His hands were still too shaky, needing both on the neck of the bottle to keep from dropping it.

“Ready to talk?” Amami asked after a while of Ouma taking the tiniest sips of the soda. He helped Ouma trade out the quarter-empty bottle for the plate of food.

“It was my prank.” The words leave his mouth unbidden.

Amami doesn’t react in the slightest but Ouma knows that’s not what he was expecting. Likely he was thinking Ouma was just traumatized at seeing a classmate in that condition. But he was being smart about the food, getting Ouma to eat without noticing, bite and then breathe, distracting him with counting. Maybe Amami understood quite a bit more than Ouma gave him credit for.

“Okay,” Amami accepts when Ouma doesn’t continue down that road. He doesn’t try to excuse it, saying it wasn’t Ouma’s fault.

It should hurt but it makes his heart beat easier.

Ouma wants to tell him that he didn’t mean to hurt Iruma, the prank wasn’t ill willed for anyone. He hadn’t a vendetta against Momota, wasn’t trying to crush the man’s dreams or body parts. Everyone knew their heated words and occasional hits had no real proper fire. The whole ordeal was just the natural effect of two very different world views being forced to coexist together.

The thing is, he is pretty sure Amami knows. There’s no judgement in Amami’s eyes, no disgust or cold hatred. In fact, he seems pretty concentrated on just making sure Ouma gets this meal.

Had he known Ouma wouldn’t eat without hearing about Iruma’s condition first?

Surely D.I.C.E. hadn’t intervened, right? They wouldn’t go to his classmates. Each of them knew how uncomfortable that would make him. They’d come to him directly, they always handled matters directly.

Why was Amami so good at this?

**Author's Note:**

> With everything that's going on right now, any lingering DR fans deserve something much fluffier and better edited than this. I just can't manage it right now, I'm sorry. My family puts me in a super bad headspace and I'm on state-wide lockdown with them. I don't even have work to escape from them. It's been... hell honestly.  
> Hope others are faring better than me. Stay strong, guys. We can all get through this together.  
> Thanks for reading this vent garbage, leave a comment if it's not too much trouble. It'd really make my day <3  
> Love you all. Drink some water and stretch if you haven't moved in a while. Take care.
> 
> Edit: THIS WILLL HAVE UPDATES IN FACT THIS ISN'T EVEN THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY the idea was for it to parallel main game plot and this is just chapter 4 and one scene folks. there will be more. Likely much faster if there are comments inspiring me. haha jk unless  
> Let me know if y'all are interested in this idea (it'll happen either way, just curious about what y'all think. I don't have a TON of ideas so I'm taking suggestions. I will likely have a friend working with me on this cuz she's got some great ideas. Be expecting POV shifts to other characters and lotsa angst. Maybe some ships... yeah, I'm excited about this ngl. Wasn't expecting a vent fic to be something lol


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